Into The Arena

by Sean O'Kane

  Now she had every material possession a woman could want and a sex life that kept her constantly satisfied as well as, perversely, craving more and she was still deliriously in love with her master.

  But it was there that her native common sense made her stop and consider. Since Mark had taken up with that mad Irishman, Conor Brien, the arena circuit had come into being and along with other projects had made Mark super-rich. But now he was surrounded by slaves, here at the house he had twenty serving girls, and then there were the fighting ones, the gladiators. Of course a slave couldn't presume to tell her master how and where he was to take his pleasure but eventually, she knew, a younger, fitter slave would take his eye and she would be 'retired'. She was quite sure she would be treated well, she knew Mark liked her, but it was her pride at stake. She had plenty of money put away - wouldn't it be better to sort out her own future rather than wait until she became that saddest of all things - a slave whose master had finished with her?

  Only a couple of weeks ago, the very day he had returned from his last trip, she had seen the truck carrying the latest recruits for the arena arrive. She had looked down from a balcony and seen them; tired and dusty, being jolted about as they went. But one had had her head up, a big blonde girl, she recalled, strikingly beautiful and built like an athlete. She had been looking around, alert, unbowed by whatever Carlo had dealt out during the voyage - and she knew Carlo well enough to know that that would have been plenty.

  She also knew that Mark liked a challenge; and everything about that girl had shouted at her that she was going to be exactly that.

  Still, since then things had gone well enough. She had had Mark's undivided attention for a long night of exquisite pain and pleasure, then Ali had beaten her again, out on the lawn while her master had enjoyed his sundowner before dinner - and watched as she had thanked Ali for his work on her by fellating him.

  She told herself to snap out of it and get on with preparing for this evening. But even as she began to sort through her wardrobe she realised that she had come to a decision without really noticing. She would carry on as normal, but would keep a close eye on how things developed and if necessary she would jump before she was pushed.

  By the time she was ready, dressed demurely in a simple evening wrap with nothing beneath it, high-heeled sandals on her feet and a discreet slave bracelet around one ankle, she knew the guests would have completed their tour of inspection and dinner would be served shortly. There would be some displays afterwards which would be filmed and distributed over the net because the circuit was expanding. Previously the owners had contented themselves with pitting individual slaves against one another and betting heavily, but then Mark and Conor had experimented with web sites and found a huge interest there. Hence the development of full blown arenas at each owner's headquarters, the barracks, the staff and all the paraphernalia that went with training whole squads of slaves. It amazed her that there seemed to be so many compliant girls.

  Girls like her she reminded herself ruefully, as she finished brushing her pride and joy, the thick coppery tresses that fell in shining waves to her bare shoulders.

  She played the gracious hostess for most of the evening with practised ease and Gerd and Elena played their part as well. The guests were a mixed bunch, some of them were clearly experienced in the SM world, others clearly not so, but all were deeply impressed by what they had seen and were very excited about the prospect of a full show in only a few weeks' time.

  Mark had arranged the dinner to reflect the Roman theme of the gathering; the huge dining room with its polished wooden floor had been rearranged. The tables were now set close against one wall with the main table facing the room and two others coming out at right angles from it at each end. Plenty of wine flowed during the meal and plenty of liqueurs followed, Patti keeping up a constant stream of small talk, even while her master's hand found its way to the opening of her wrap and buried itself between her legs. She clenched her thighs on it and carried on, but noticed that several of the other women were looking more flushed than alcohol alone could account for. They were ready for the displays.

  As ever Mark timed it perfectly, waiting until one or two of the women were looking very distracted.

  He announced the start and added that the serving girls were of course available and could be enjoyed in any way the guests chose during the fights and subsequent events. If they failed to please adequately, they would form part of the display. Everyone cheered and the first slaves were brought on by Carlo.

  It was obvious that the evening was scheduled to build slowly, the first contest was nude wrestling, a staple of the girls' routine but it would whet the guests' appetites for harder contests to follow. Patti had seen the naked girls wrestling a thousand times before but it was a sight which never failed to arouse her and now she shifted in her seat and opened her legs to allow her master's fingers to reach under her and achieve a teasing penetration as, out on the floor the two girls crashed together.

  Carlo's training had been as immaculate as ever. The contestants appeared to put real spite into their holds and throws and soon the big room echoed to their cries and yells and the crashes of their bodies landing on the wooden floor. The guests all hammered on the tabletop and added their yells to the noise until the first crotch hold heralded the beginning of the end. When one girl teetered on the impaling fingers of the other and shook her head in mute appeal, waving her own hands impotently, a breathless silence fell. All eyes watched the chopping hand rise and then fall. And the recipient's shriek was drowned by the shrieks of the females in the audience who flinched in excited sympathy. And as the girl tottered around in the wide space between the tables, the soon-to-be-victor stalked her, applying any hold she cared to, tormenting her nipples and breasts, always being careful to display her actions to her audience. Twice more the devastating crotch hold was executed, driving the audience into a frenzy, before the girl went down and the victor squatted over her face to accept her submission.

  There was a short interval before the second contest during which glasses were replenished and congratulations given to Mark. Patti noted that the household girls were also being put to the test during this pause, virtually every tunic was being felt around underneath as they served drinks, and one was even called on to fellate a guest who had no compunction about taking his rampant erection out in full view of everyone. There was good-natured applause as the thick rod disappeared between the soft lips of the kneeling girl and the man solemnly raised his glass to Mark. He had withdrawn his fingers from Patti's sex while he talked to his guests but as the second pair of girls was led on he sank them back into her moist depths and she groaned with appreciation because it was boxing next. She herself had been the first slave to wear one of the devilish corsets the slaves were wearing. Carlo and Mark had devised them and both of them had screwed her while she was wearing the first model, propelling her to the vision-blurring heights of multiple orgasms. She tightened her thighs around Mark's questing fingers, the better to enjoy them and recalled the feel of the terrible little studs on the inside of the corset as the men's weight had borne down on her, tied and helpless on her own bed.

  Carlo was busy showing off the design and the two contestants stood patiently while he showed the guests how the nipples and breasts lay snugly on and against the wicked points inside, and he invited them to note how the outside of each corset had long vertical rows of studs stretching from the half cup bodice right down to where it finished on the stomach. And each one meant a little point held against the wearer's skin. But he wasn't finished - and even Patti sat up and took note at the new twist which had been added. Each girl wore a leather thong and as Carlo pulled the small triangle away from the girl's crotch, everyone could see that they too were studded. Finally he had them inspect the boxing gloves. The contestants' knuckles were wrapped in leather strips which had heavy metal reinforcements sewn into them. The corsets were of thick leather and extra weight was needed for the girls' blo
ws to register. Patti thought the black girl looked very sinister, her chocolate skin almost merging with the dark leather, which, on the other girl made a marked contrast with her comparatively pale skin.

  Once he had finished showing off the costumes, Carlo waved the contestants together. This time the guests were much more subdued as the girls circled each other with understandable caution, keeping their bodies turned sideways on to their opponent, to avoid an uppercut. And both girls kept their fists held high to guard their breasts. For several minutes they lunged and dodged and feinted and then the white girl managed to land a punch to the black girl's midriff. Everyone heard her grunt as her corset did its work and she doubled over for a second. The white girl took full advantage and landed a couple of swings to her sides, her blows looking oddly slow with the weighted gloves but every one of the onlookers could feel their impacts. The black girl staggered back, weaving desperately and then swung her own punches. She swung wildly but got lucky, one fist made contact with the white girl's right breast.

  Patti came, writhing on her master's fingers as she saw the ripple run through the meat of the breast and recalled the exquisite bolts of pain the points sent shooting through the body. The white girl yelped and twisted but bravely held her ground and the two girls came together, trading punches to each others' ribs and trying to dig their fists down for a finishing uppercut. It was the white girl who landed the all-important blow and the black girl's thighs clenched, her knees buckled and her guard dropped. As she bent forwards the white girl was presented with a perfect target and she jabbed, left and right, straight and true to her breasts. The black girl collapsed in a heap and Carlo stepped in to count. She staggered up at eight and courageously went back on the attack. But she was weakened and stood squarely in front of her opponent instead of sideways. The white girl was able to pick her off and soon had her down again.

  Patti looked at the expressions of savage delight on the audience's faces, especially the women, as the blows fetched grunts and cries from both girls. And she well knew the thin line they would be treading between agony and ecstasy. In fact as the black girl was counted out, her writhings with her hands clutched between her legs could be interpreted as those of a girl in the throes of intense orgasm.

  Carlo was furious at how short the contest had been and invited the audience to give the thumbs up or down on this occasion. Inevitably they gave the thumbs down and the thumbs stayed down until Carlo's tariff had reached twenty strokes of the cane. Beside Patti, her master was plainly furious as well and doubled the sentence as the girl was bound over a trestle, her ripely jutting buttocks towards the onlookers.

  As the sentence was administered and the girl shrieked and writhed her way through it, an orgy of truly Roman proportions was in full swing around the tables and Patti could feel her master relax as he felt the good humour of the crowd being restored. Several of the household girls were bent over the tables and were being taken by male guests while those female guests who weren't already in use egged their men on to stronger and stronger thrusts into the offered passages. It was too much for her. She slid down off her seat and shuffled round to kneel between her master's knees while he continued to hold court above the table. Her hands fumbled urgently with his trousers until his thick cock was free and she held it lovingly between her palms before dropping her grateful lips over the shiny helm and tasting him on her darting tongue.

  When she re-emerged and took her place beside him again, wiping her chin demurely and still swallowing the last of his thick ejaculate, she saw that a cane duel was about to get underway. And one of the contestants was the big blonde. She glanced sideways at her master and her heart fell as she saw the intensity with which he was regarding her. The two girls, each equipped with a thin, whippy three foot length of rattan, looked stunning in black basques - conventional this time - stockings and high heels. These defined the permissible strike areas; thighs, buttocks, shoulders and the upper breasts. Patti's eyes followed those of her master and took in the perfect proportions of the blonde; the wide sweeps of firm breast and buttock flesh, the powerfully curving thighs and the broad back and shoulders. All crowned with that thick mane of honey blonde hair and her calm, intelligent face whose dark blue eyes seemed to be staring at something remote and unseen by anyone else in the room. Carlo was turning her and having her spread her legs to show how she wore a sizeable dildo embedded to the hilt in her sex. It was kept in place by two slender chains which ran up from her crotch to the bottom of her basque, in front. At the back there was a single chain and this was clipped to the steel loop on the restraint around her free wrist. This not only kept her hand pinioned behind her back but also, if she moved it at all, would tug on and shift the dildo inside her. Again the girls were being made to walk the line between dazzling pain and excruciating pleasure.

  Patti realised as her master continued to gaze at the blonde that she made a mouth watering display of slavish femininity, even if you ignored the added eroticism of knowing that she was about to suffer for others' enjoyment.

  Carlo waved the two contestants together and stood back. The girls circled each other at first, each one flicking with her cane and testing the connection between her free hand and the dildo inside her. Suddenly there was a flurry of action, the canes making Thwack! Thwack! noises as they sliced the air and immediately both girls sported thin pink lines on their flanks. Stalking each other like fencers they continued to circle, darting in and delivering a biting strike to thighs or buttocks, then retreating. The guests were cheering on their choice of contestant, punching the air with delight when she delivered a hit and the recipient flinched and grimaced. The excitement grew steadily as each girl's body displayed more and more complex patterns of weals; the firm buttock flesh registering shock waves at each strike, the breasts their customary rapid wobble. At first the girls traded strikes in grim silence but slowly, as the weals crossed each other and the dildos continued their insidious work, they began to give breathless little gasps and sometimes a slight stagger. Their shoulders and breasts began to gleam with sweat, one girl was breathing open mouthed. But the blonde maintained a stern concentration.

  She even allowed herself to take three quick strikes to the fronts and sides of her thighs without stepping back, just to get her opponent where she wanted her, slightly off balance and on her front foot as she delivered the last one. Then she sprang her trap. Stepping a little sideways she dealt the girl a far harder swipe across the buttocks than any yet delivered as she stumbled past her, then followed it with an equally hard lash across the shoulders. The girl arched and twisted and took a perfectly aimed stroke across the tops of both breasts as she half turned. Her free arm jerked on its dildo chain as she instinctively tried to raise it and her mouth opened in a silent O as she teetered on the brink of screaming and coming, both at the same time. She was wide open, held at an agonising peak for a long moment, and the blonde could have finished it. But she waited until the girl tottered sideways a few paces and then gathered herself to return to the fray.

  But now the blonde stepped up a gear. Her footwork became dazzling, she shimmied and feinted to left and right, then spun past her dazed opponent to deliver slicing backhand slashes to her buttocks. Whenever she was threatened with a strike, it seemed as if all she did was sway her hips and maybe gracefully lift one leg. The clumsily delivered blow would either miss altogether or land harmlessly, but the opponent herself would have to take two or three more cutting slices as the blonde picked her target, time and again making her victim twist and arch to receive the devastating breast slice.

  The audience were now wholeheartedly cheering the blonde on as she played cruelly with the other girl, who was by now showing small droplets of crimson on her buttocks where she had repeatedly taken criss-crossing lashes and her breasts looked as though they had been raked by long talons. She was staggering now, sweat pouring from her, her stocking tops ragged from cane strikes which had strayed low. Her own cane arm was held low and her free ar
m was constantly tugging at the dildo chain as the pain drove her to arouse herself still further, only making her an easier, more distracted, target.

  The blonde spotted it and stepped up yet another gear. She started flicking her cane up between the spread legs. Not hard enough to finish the girl, just hard enough to bring her to peak after peak of agonised excitement, her knees buckling but not quite collapsing. The audience stamped and cheered each time, while the blonde circled like a shark. Waiting till her victim's legs were steady again and then moving in to repeat the thighs, buttocks, shoulders and breast sequence until once again the girl was reeling and the uppercut flick was administered. Twice the girl went down, and twice she heaved herself back up; mindful of the previous punishment for poor performance. At the end she was partly blinded by the sweat-drenched tangle of hair hanging in front of her eyes and could only lunge vaguely in the direction from which she thought her next bout of pain was coming. But the blonde was never there; however the tormenting rhythm of Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! inevitably was. When the girl went down for the third time she rolled onto her back with her legs spread and the audience could see her thigh muscles clench as she yanked hard on the dildo chain again and again, propelling herself to one final, public orgasm. Then the blonde knelt carefully over her face and they saw the red tongue flick up and disappear between the engorged labia. The room erupted.

  Even Patti found herself on her feet, cheering. Beside her, her master was shaking his head in disbelief and grudgingly she had to admit she knew why. No one had ever seen such a comprehensive display. The blonde was an instinctive fighting athlete with a high pain threshold and a deep understanding of the importance of 'the show'.

  But even as she applauded, Patti knew that she would have to watch what happened now very carefully indeed.